


Angel with a Shotgun

by j2mslittlebitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Rape, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j2mslittlebitch/pseuds/j2mslittlebitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was a lone ranger. He was the youngest detective in the precinct and refused to work with a partner. That is, until he was forced into working with the socially awkward, kinda weird detective that had been transferred, Castiel Novak.<br/>Castiel Novak was scared of going back to work. After what had happened to him at his last precinct, he had to be forced back into the saddle by his boss or he would have been happy to stay in his apartment for the rest of his life. Of course, he can’t talk to the abrupt, often nasty detective Dean Winchester he has been partnered with.<br/>So both men, wary of each other and forming a weird bond that started with a drunken accident, dive head on into the investigation to find the ‘Crest Killer’ who is killing teenage girls that attend the prestigious all-girls school Ladies of the Crest.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so to start off with, there is a lot of triggers contained in this work. There is nasty characters, nasty actions and even nastier places. Some of them include alcoholism, rape, murder, self harm, suicide, character death and drug use. So please remember, none of this is real, if you have weak stomachs, it's best probably not to continue. I will post at the beginning of each chapter if any triggers are used.
> 
> Secondly, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

Dean Winchester was a man of routine. He woke every morning at five am, stumbled to the kitchen with his eyes closed to pour himself a cup of coffee, than he dressed in trackpants, a white teeshirt and runners and was out the door by 5.30 am to do his run.  
He didn’t run the route every morning, preferring to change it up a little. This morning he chose to run through the park, feeling the serenity of the towering trees and early morning mist. It calmed him, and as he walked up the steps to his front door, he felt ready for the day – that was, until he checked his mobile phone messages and found one from his boss.

_“Heya, Deano, it’s Alistair, don’t forget your new partner will be arriving to town tomorrow. I don’t want to hear any whining about how you’re the lone ranger or what the fuck ever. This guy has had a hard time at his old posting so just go easy on him. Anyway, see you in the morning.”_

Dean hated Alistair, he _hated_ him with a burning passion and he hated working with a partner. Suddenly, his calm had been replaced by irritability.  
He was still cranky when he climbed out of the shower and briskly dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist to pause in front of the mirror. His hair was quickly styled with a dollop of product and his face quickly shaved.  
Dean was a handsome man, he knew he was, he’d been told enough. Jo told him damn near every day and he knew underneath the light tone, she was serious when she spoke of going out, or _staying in_ as she crudely put it with that trade mark leer of hers.  
He had dirty blonde hair, high cheek bones with ocean green eyes and tanned skin stretched taut of hard muscles. He stared into his own eyes in the mirror and saw the echoes of nightmares and bad times that he wanted to avoid but never could.  
Dean picked up the small gold medallion that hung around his neck and kissed it, letting the warm metal hit his skin when he dropped it. It came from Sammy, his little brother who lived over the other side of the country and Dean never saw him enough.  
Dean walked out of the bathroom and dressed quickly, in his trade mark black suit, white shirt and black tie. He pushed the necklace below his shirt and picked up his sun glasses from the dresser and slipped them on, before pushing them up on his head.  
In the kitchen, he grabbed a slice of toast and was out the door.

 

He arrived at work at seven am, putting his phone, guns and travel mug which was half full of scolding black coffee in the little plastic container then walked through the metal detector. It beeped loudly and he smiled at the young policeman on the door.  
“Sorry, man, it’s just this –” he lifted up the medallion to show the cop.  
The young brunette man shrugged and waved the hand held detector over him, “I still gotta, y’know, just in case you’ve got a bomb or something under there.”  
Dean smiled and grabbed his belongings before heading to the elevator. When it opened, full of people heading to the basement, Dean stepped back and shook his head; he’ll wait for the next one.  
The next one was empty, and he rode it to the fifth floor where he stepped out and tried to make a beeline to his office without Alistair seeing him. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful and he heard Alistair’s nasally voice calling for him.  
Dean gritted his teeth and turn back to his boss with a completely and noticeably fake smile. “Yes, sir?”  
Alistair stepped to the side, revealing another man. The second man was slightly shorted and dressed in a navy suit with a crooked tie and a beige trench coat that looked two sizes too big. He had shaggy black sex hair and perfect pale skin but what caught Dean were his eyes, bright blue eyes that seemed to stare into his soul.  
Dean stopped in front of them, hostility all over his face, just because Dean thought the guy was attractive did not mean he had to like him.  
“Dean Winchester, this is Castiel Novak, your new partner.” Alistair starred at Dean, challenging him to kick up a stink but Dean just offered the new guy his hand, which Castiel starred at for a moment before tentatively shaking it. “Look after him, Dean.”  
Dean frowned at Alistair’s retreating back, did he seriously expect Dean to _babysit_ this guy? Well, fuck that.  
“C’mon,” Dean motioned for Castiel to follow him and led him into what he assumed was now _their_ office. He pointed at the desk against one wall, “That’s yours now.”  
He picked up a pile of files and dumped them in front of Castiel, “Read up on these, we,” he waved his hand between them, “are the lead’s on the Crest killer. Those are everything we have so far.”  
Castiel glanced down at them, then back up at Dean, “I, ah, kept up to date with the case while I was on level.”  
Dean turned his eyes to Castiel, frowning, “So you know everything that is contained in those files?”  
“Well,” Castiel shrugged, “probably not _everything_.”  
“Then read the fucking files, we don’t do shit half-assed around here.” Dean pulled his chair out and flopped into it before pulling a yellow note pad out of his drawer, “After you read them, we have a few people to visit – so snap, snap.”  
Castiel looked at Dean once more before sliding into his chair and opening the first file.

Dean and Castiel walked down to the garage together, Castiel staring at the ground and Dean staring firming ahead of them. He wasn’t impressed with having a partner, Alistair knew Dean didn’t want a partner and he damned well knew why.  
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was rough when he spoke, “I can sense you don’t want me here but you need to understand I _can’t_ be anywhere else.”  
Dean wouldn’t admit it even if he was curious - _which he wasn’t_! “Yeah, well just do as you’re told and keep outta my way. I don’t play well with others.”  
Castiel and Dean were both quiet as they climbed into Dean’s car. His baby, a shining, black ’67 Chevy Impala. He gotten the car off his dad, rode it off wrapping it around a tree when he was 20, just before he joined the police force, then rebuilt her from the ground up.  
“Dean.” Dean could not get passed that rough voice, he sounded freshly fucked and Dean definitely did not need to think about his new partner looking or sounding freshly fucked.  
“Yes Castiel.”  
“Most agents drive police assigned cars, do they not?”  
“Yes, they do Castiel.”  
“Well, why is it you drive your own vehicle?”  
Dean was silent for a moment, those memories from so long ago flashing through his mind. Him and Sammy curled together in the backseat, their dad behind the wheel for endless hours, days, weeks. His first kiss and fuck had been in the backseat, his first blow job – given and received – too.  
He gave the rehearsed answer, the one he gave anyone who asked, “Because I would not be caught dead in the heaps of shit the Force calls _cars_.”  
Castiel tilted his head, “This car means a lot to you?”  
“Listen,” Dean turned the key and the monster V8 roared to life, “I’m not a sharing, caring kinda guy so just stop with the questions, okay?”  
Castiel went silent again, so Dean put the Impala in drive and left the garage. It was a twenty minute drive to their first witnesses house, and it was a long, tense drive where Castiel didn’t know where to look and Dean was pointedly ignoring the man sitting beside him, concentrating on the sounds of classic rock humming from the stereo.  
_‘I’m an Angel with a shotgun, fightin’ ‘til the wars won, I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back, I’ll throw away my faith baby, just to keep you safe.’_  
Dean sung along, before he slowed down and pulled up at the curb, “This is it.”  
He turned the car off and climbed out; waiting for Castiel to climb out before he locked both doors, then joined Castiel on the sidewalk. He didn’t want to go in there with Castiel, he wasn’t sure what the guy was like with witnesses and this woman had just lost her teenage daughter to a serial killer and he didn’t want some rookie in there offending her and sending her off the deep end. Sure, Dean was an asshole but he knew it and he smoothed his rough exterior over when handling grieving witnesses.  
“Listen dude, let me do the talking in here, okay? I’m the familiar face ‘round here.” It wasn’t said unkindly but Castiel frowned none-the-less.  
“Dean, I am not an inconsiderate person. I have spoken to witnesses before.” Castiel’s voice was just bordering on offended but Dean couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.  
“Well, we can try out your non inconsiderate persona another time, okay?” Dean turned and started walking towards the front door, “But today, we’re going to use my tried and tested, awesomely comforting persona. Okay? Right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short drunken chapter.

Dean went to the same bar every Friday night after work to have a beer or ten. Sometimes he came alone, other times he came with Jo and a few people from work. Alistair once called him an alcoholic but Dean don’t need no AA meetings. He did his job, showed up sober and clean every morning, so as far as he was concerned, he could drink all he wanted.  
Currently he was on his fifth beer at his regular table in the corner, that was shadowed and far enough away from the jukebox that he could hear himself think. And he was feeling pleasantly buzzed.  
He didn’t even blink when Jo slid in the seat opposite him, “Hey, Jo.”  
The pretty blonde woman smiled, “Hey handsome. What’s a boy like you, doin’ in a place like this?”  
Dean gave a crooked smile, “Tryin’a drink my problems away.”  
Jo leant across the table, “And what’s brotherin’ you tonight?”  
Dean sighed, “Just this shit with Alistair, forcing me to work with – Castiel. What are you doing here?”  
Castiel looked between Jo and Dean, looking completely uncomfortable in the clothes he wore to work.  
“Dean,” Jo’s voice torn him from his staring contest with those bright blue eyes, “I invited him.”  
Dean sighed and shrugged as Castiel slid into the booth next to him, “You can shout the next round, Joanna Beth and I expect shots.”  
“I don’t drink,” Castiel interrupted and Dean snorted.  
“Listen, buddy,” Dean clumsily slapped Castiel on the back, “If you’re comin’ out with Jo and I, there is no way you’re stayin’ sober.” He turned back to Jo, “Better make it two shots.”

By Dean’s wonky and completely drunken calculations, it was half past one. Jo, Castiel and himself were leaning on the bar, all staring at the last shot the bar tender would serve any of them.  
Castiel hadn’t been wrong when he said he didn’t drink. Two shots, one beer and some fruity girl drink later; Castiel had barely been able to stand. He had gotten by, by leaning on Dean or Jo and a little later in the night, both.  
They drank the shots down, grimacing and choking and laughing before they helped each other from the pub.  
Castiel stopped dead in the doorway and Dean looked over at him, he looked worried, like actually terrified.  
“Dean.”  
“Yes, Cas.”  
“Dean, I cannot remember where I live.” He spun wildly into Dean, clutching at his leather coat lapels, “Dean, _where do I live?_ ”  
Dean giggled and leant into Cas, “It’s ok, Cas. It’s okay, you can come back to my houze.”  
Jo laughed and Dean looked over Cas’ shoulder to see her standing, hands on knees, laughing her ass off. He narrowed his eyes and pushed Cas out of the way to stagger over to her, “Waz yer problem, Joanna Beth?”  
“Just…” she motioned to Cas and then to Dean and laughed even harder.  
Dean shoved her and giggled as she fell over, “Go home, Jo. Cuz you are a bitchy bitch.”  
Dean watched, swaying slightly as Jo climbed into the cab then swung around to Cas, who had taken to sit in the gutter, staring up at Dean like a lost puppy.  
“C’mon, Cassy, let’s go.”  
“Dean, my name is Castiel.”  
“Right, Cas. C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, and boring, next one will be exciting and longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The editing is all crazy like in this chapter. Not sure why, and I can't fix it - sorry guys.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep. ___  
Dean threw an arm out from under his heavy doona and hit his alarm clock.  
 _Beep, beep, beep, beep. ___  
“Shut the fuck up.” This time the alarm clock hit the wall and Dean winced, just another hole in the wall he would have to fix. He would think about that when the jack hammer had finished working on his head and he washed the cotton wool out of his mouth.  
He started to roll onto his back and froze. There was somebody in his bed. What the fuck did he do last night? He done a quick inventory and noted he still had boxers on but that didn’t mean anything.  
He sat up slowly, keeping his eyes shut to minimize the spinning in the room, before he moved to swing his legs out of bed. He had barely moved when a heavy arm darted out and grabbed him around the waist and a rough voice murmured, “No, stay.”  
Dean froze and fought, slipping out of his grasp and off the bed altogether. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head that had hit the floor. “Fucker.”  
“Dean.”  
And shit, Dean had woken him. He peered over the bed to see Cas’ blue eyes staring back. And shit, it was Cas. Dean had known it was Cas but couldn’t ignore it now they were standing at each other. He couldn’t ignore the man he was supposed to hate was lying half naked in his bed, after a night of heavy drinking.  
“Dean.” Cas’ tone was concerned now, “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine Cas, it’s just comfier down here.” Dean stood quickly, which was a mistake because he felt like he was on a carnival ride and he had to drop back onto the bed and close his eyes for it to stop.  
Cas stayed silent but Dean felt him moving around in the bed before he felt Cas’ hands on his shoulders, massaging gently. He shrugged them off, then stood – slower this time.  
“Coffee.” And he left the room without looking at the man in his bed.

Dean busied himself in the kitchen and studiously ignored Cas as he sat at Dean’s breakfast buffet and watched with those soul searching eyes. Dean didn’t speak, just made two cups of coffee and put one in front of Cas before stepping back and leaning against the bench.  
“Dean,” Cas’ voice was low, “I know you don’t like me and I know whatever happened last night was just a drunken mistake but I really hope this won’t affect our working relationship.”  
Dean finally looked up from his coffee, feeling very vulnerable in his underwear in front of this man who seemed so genuine but was also a complete stranger.  
“Listen, Cas. Here’s the thing. You’re comin’ in half way through the movie. There’s… - things you don’t know about me. Things I may never tell you and really, I’m not looking for a friend, I don’t need one, the ones I have are already more trouble than they are worth. I’m not sayin’ you’re not a nice guy, I’m sayin’ I’m not.”  
Cas didn’t say anything for a minute then, “I didn’t say we had to be friends but we _do_ have to work together and I just don’t want that to be awkward.”  
Dean straightened and lifted his chin a little, “I’m a professional, I don’t care if we fucked like bunnies last night, it would not affect our working relationship.” He took a sip of coffee before continuing, “Which I doubt we did.”  
Cas done that puppy head tilt again, “Doubt we did what?”  
Dean leered, “Fucked like bunnies. I don’t have any lube dude, which means one or both of us would be all types of sore and you’re not complaining or walking funny, so I doubt we did.”  
Now it was Cas’ turn to look down at his coffee and Dean caught the blush before he could hide it.  
Dean thought he heard Cas murmur something but he didn’t catch it, “What was that, Cas?”  
Cas looked up again, “I said, I – I’ve never done that before. I-I’m not gay.”  
This time Dean tilted his head, “You mean sex or butt sex?”  
Cas scoffed, “Of course I’ve had straight sex, I’ve just never gone there with a guy.”  
“Oh. Okay.” Dean shrugged, “well, if you were, I wouldn’t care. I’ve fooled around with guys a few times.”  
Dean said it quietly, he didn’t admit it to a lot of people, but he thought when he woke up with a half-naked man in his bed, the guy would _know_ and more than likely know he was gay or at least bi. Not sitting at Dean’s table denying ever having been with a man. Dean has a spare bed, something must have happened to get Cas into Dean’s bed.  
Luckily, he didn’t get to dwell on the fact any longer, because his phone beeped with a voice mail message. He slid his finger across the screen, then dialled message bank. 

_‘Deano, Crest killer has struck again. Dorm block A, room 12. Get here ASAP.”_

Dean put his coffee down and turned to Cas, “Jump in the shower down the hall, we need to saddle up. We’ve got murder number four on our hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song contained in this chapter is The Cabs, Angel with a shotgun. Which is also where the title comes from.


End file.
